


All the Way from London, England

by ironmansassistant



Series: Lie Detector Extraordinaire [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4847138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmansassistant/pseuds/ironmansassistant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting caught once, you tail the fake FBI agents to the cemetery a little more carefully and see a lot more than you ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Way from London, England

The only people in town that would want the General dead had alibis. Each and every one of them were attending a charity dinner on the edge of town when his body had been found, and none of them were ever unaccounted for. Of course, you’d only learned that sitting in the diner eavesdropping on whatever gossip you could. You were still too shaken up by your encounter with Sam and Dean to actually go home. You knew they weren’t following you, but you kept looking over your shoulder anyway. They were clearly good at whatever it was they did—and they made you question your own skills. Maybe Dean had a point when he told you you could pull one over on the locals and not them—maybe you weren’t as good as you thought.  
Sipping at your tea, you kept your eyes low. The only person you could think of that would want the General dead was already dead themselves. You wanted to look at the scene of the General’s death, but if you were caught you knew you would be in lockup for at least the weekend. You bit down on your lower lip and held the mug to your lips, letting the steam fill your vision.  
“I heard he was talking to himself a lot,” a woman in the booth behind you said. “His daughter didn’t even want him to go to the banquet—that’s why he was at home.”  
Before you could hear anymore a crack of thunder erupted outside. You peered out the window at the clouds, unaware that they had rolled in. Rain began to patter against the sidewalk, and as you watched it darken the pavement the impala drove by. The windows were up and it had become too dark to see who was inside, but you knew who it was; and they were driving awfully fast down the street.  
Your cup clattered against the table as you stood quickly, drawing the attention of the other patrons. As you ran to the door you heard someone shout at you about paying the bill but you were in too much of a hurry to care. You jumped in your car and sped off, hoping the rain and the night might give you a bit of extra cover as you tailed Sam and Dean.

You thought you were tailing them to the police station, or maybe back to the crime scene. But instead you found yourself parking down the street from the cemetery, and watching as Sam and Dean, each dressed in casual clothes and carrying shovels, walk into the rows of graves. You arched one brow as they disappeared into the rain, and sucked in a deep breath as you opened the car door.  
The cemetery was fenced off, so you didn’t have much choice but to go through the front gate as the fake agents had. You threw up the hood of your sweater and wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. The temperature had dropped severely in the past two hours.   
It was nearly black in the graveyard, and the small lights that dotted the area did little to light your way. In the distance you spotted two specs of light moving in the air. You kept to the outskirts of the path, but as you moved closer you could make out voices.  
“What would the wife want her husband dead for?” they asked. It sounded like Sam.  
“I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean said, huffing. You moved closer, knowing the rain concealed you. Dean continued, “Maybe she got sick of watching him bring that Desiree chick around for a good time.” He chuckled.   
“Yeah but everyone said they had a happy marriage,” Sam replied. You lifted your hand to shield your eyes and saw what they were doing. The storm began to calm down but as a streak of lightning lit up the sky you realized that Sam and Dean were standing over a grave—or in it, actually. They were digging it up, a small pile of dirt already beside them in the short time it had taken you to find them.  
“Nobody has a happy marriage,” Dean said. “You think he started sleeping around once the wife died? Come on, dude. He was probably cheating for years.”  
“I don’t know Dean, something doesn’t feel right.” Sam, only a tall shadow in the rain, forced the shovel into the ground. “I need to grab something—I’ll be right back.” Stepping out of the grave, Sam began to move towards you ignoring Dean’s protests. You ducked behind a nearby tree before another streak of lightning could brighten the area.  
“Come on, Sammy!” Dean called. “Sam! You’re really gonna make me dig this grave by myself? Sam!”  
You furrowed your brow. What could theses fake agents possibly be doing here? Dean cursed loudly and kept digging. The rain stopped, but the thunder still rolled in the distance. More confident that Dean wouldn’t see you, you tiptoed out from behind the tree. A harsh breeze rushed past you, whipping the leaves around your face. You squeezed your eyes shut and hugged yourself, and when your eyelids lifted you saw a figure in front of you.  
“Jason?” you questioned.  
Jason sneered at you as you gaped. Too stunned to find anymore words, you watched as Jason lifted his hand and thrust it against your collarbone, sending you flying backwards. Your feet lifted from the ground and you soared through the air with a scream. Your back slammed against the black fence and you fell to the mud. Stars spotted your vision.  
“Hey!” a deep voice yelled. You looked up, the world a grey blurry mess with two dark figures before you. You made out a long stick in one figure’s hand and when it swung forward you realized it was a shovel. It sliced through the second shadow and then they came towards you.  
You slipped as you tried to back up, your face pressing into the mud again.  
“Come on, time to go,” Dean said. His green eyes came into focus as he grabbed onto your arm and hauled you to your feet. He pulled you onto the pavement and began to head towards the front gate.  
“That was—that was Jason James,” you stated.  
“Who the hell is Jason James?” Dean questioned.   
You looked over your shoulder only to be yanked by Dean. It was just you two in the cemetery now, and you shook the stars from beneath your eyelids. “What was that?”  
“You just said it was Jason James,” Dean told you.  
Sam came running forward. “Dean! What happened?”  
“It’s not the wife,” Dean said.  
“Then who—” Sam began when Jason materialized beside him and shoved him to your left. Like you, Sam flew into the air and landed ten feet away. You gasped, unable to find your voice. Dean let you go and swung at Jason, who vanished. This time your eyes were clear, and you knew for a fact that it was Jason that was there.  
Jason James that you had gone to high school with.  
Jason James that had protected you from bullies in the second grade.  
Jason James that was the son of the General.  
Jason James that died two years ago in London, England.  
Your breathing quickened and you weren’t sure your heart was even beating anymore it was going so fast.   
“You okay Sammy?” Dean asked. He kept the shovel high, ready to swing at anything that dared to move in front of him.  
“I’m good,” Sam said, already on his feet. You blinked a few times, trying to shake back to reality but you weren’t sure where that was.  
“You said his name was Jason James?” Dean asked.  
You didn’t answer.  
“Hey, Y/N,” Dean said, snapping his fingers in front of you. “You know this guy?”  
“He—he’s the General’s son—he-he died.”  
“I got that,” Dean replied. “He buried around here?”  
“Uh, next to his mother I think,” you answered.  
Dean looked to you. “Listen, get out of here while you can and Sam and I will deal with Jason.”  
“What do you mean deal with?” you asked. “He’s dead—how is he here?”  
“I don’t have time to do the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech,” Dean said. “Jason’s a ghost and now he’s on a killing spree so we gotta burn the body and—”  
“What body?” you asked.  
“Jason’s body,” Sam told you. “It kills the spirit, basically.”  
You shook your head.  
Sam’s eyes softened on you as Dean searched the area.  
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to get out of here, Y/N,” Sam said. He pressed a hand on your back and began to push you towards the gate. You dug your heels in, slipping slightly on the mud that still coated you.  
“No,” you said, “I mean there’s no body. Jason died in a fire in London two years ago—all they buried was a casket.”  
Dean and Sam exchanged a panicked look.   
“Get away!” Jason screamed, the sound echoing in your head so loudly you had to cover your ears. As the ghost appeared it struck out at Sam and Dean, leaving you unharmed. The shovel fell at your feet as Dean hit the ground next to his partner. He quickly disappeared and left you spinning in a circle trying to find him.  
As the two men tried to get to their feet Jason appeared again over them. They looked up at him as he said, “Stay away from Y/N.”  
Jason’s hand lifted into the air. You picked up the shovel, ready to swing when you realized something.  
“They aren’t hurting me Jason!” you shouted.  
Jason’s visage froze. His head twitched to look at you, eyes questioning.  
“I’m fine, they’re not bad.”  
His eyes drifted to his mother’s grave. You added, “And they’re very sorry for desecrating your mother’s grave. They’ll fix it, I promise.”  
“You can’t talk sense into a ghost,” Sam stated.  
But you saw the thoughts working through Jason’s mind, even if you didn’t believe what was happening. You told Jason, “I’m safe—really.”  
Jason looked back at Dean, making the man flinch slightly. But as he looked back at you his image was already fading, and soon it was just you and Sam and Dean in the cemetery.  
You gripped the shovel, letting the rough wood dig into your palms. “You guys are so explaining this.”  
Sam and Dean raised to their feet, quick but careful. Before either of them could open their mouth with a prepared lie you knew they must have, you added, “And don’t give me that FBI X-Files bullshit I’m sure you’ve said to a hundred other people. I know when people are lying and I will not let you lie to me.”  
As the two men met each other’s gaze a silent thought passed between them.   
“All right Y/N,” Sam said, “all right. You want the truth?”  
You nodded, lips pursed. Your hands were shaking and this time you didn’t try to hide it—you let them shake. You let these men see you were scared because scared people were wiling to defend themselves—especially when they were the ones with the weapon.  
“I’m Sam Winchester,” Sam said, “and that’s my brother, Dean. We’re hunters.”


End file.
